Hottest Morning on Record
by writerdragonfly
Summary: It's the hottest morning on record and Captain Cold, missing from the public eye for six weeks, has a plan for the Flash.


_**Author's note** : It probably hasn't escaped anyone's notice that I've had some difficulty actually writing much in the last few months, and this is probably not in character and IS super cheesy, also did 100% not go as planned, but was written for the ever lovely darling a href=" .com" dragdragdragon on tumblr./a ILY._

-x-

It's only eleven and already 95 degrees, the sickening heat and humidity weighing heavily on his shoulders. His jacket, usually a necessary warmth around his shoulders, serves to do nothing except exacerbate the startlingly unbearable temperature.

He tightens his fingers around the cool metal of his gun, tries to get his head focused back on the count.  
 _  
_

 _One, two, three…_

He didn't normally do a lot of jobs in the summer. He didn't like the heat, or the excess of scantily clad of adults and children in the city. 

But he had to do this now, even though the day would only get hotter and the people less clothed en masse.  
 _  
_

 _Four, five, six…_

There were tons of them around all ready, swathes of people snapping pictures with their cell phones and chattering excitedly. 

It had been weeks since he'd shown his face, decked out in his parka and googles. 

Six blissfully quiet weeks hiding away, where no people were doing _this_ , just because he was there. 

He wasn't even aware of it, really, whatever had happened to finally bring him completely over from hated murdering criminal to "Central City's Hottest Superhero of 2016." It hadn't been intentional, and he couldn't even really pinpoint when it had even started. (Who had started it, however, was a completely different story. )  
 _  
_

 _Seven, eight, nine…_

Except that it had happened, and he was now publicly a superhero. 

And, well… 

His comm unit makes a noise as his count hits ten, a double beep that signals the other end being picked up. 

Just in time. 

"Len? What are you doing?" the Flash's confused voice crackles through the line, which serves to do nothing except make him _flash_ a grin at the sheer number of people below. 

"It's been awhile, Scarlet," Len says, and the crowd erupts into the expected cheers of excitement. There's still a few cries about sinning and bad influences–there always would be, he knows–but their voices are quickly drowned in the sheer volume of the people who supported him. 

"No, seriously. What are you _doing_?" 

Len smirks, lifts his hand toward the crowd below in a little wave. 

"Cooling things off, of course," he says, "care to join me, Flash?" 

The crowd goes even louder, and Len counts at least twenty hastily made signs within the first couple blocks with "I SUPPORT COLDFLASH" in thick, iridescent block letters. 

"Len," Barry's voice gets a little strangled, and almost makes him abandon the plan entirely, but then he continues, "There's video of you going viral all over the Internet." 

He pauses, looks around. There aren't any helicopters, so the bulk of the media coverage must be below. 

He wonders if they can read what his t-shirt says, or if he'll have to abandon the parka for that. 

"Scarlet, do you realize what today is?" Len says, and it's softer that before, mostly because it's actually not intended as part of the Public Plan. 

Not that it helps, because apparently the bulk of the teenage girls (and yes, probably the rest of the teenagers and many of the adults) seem to have ears like bats and go insane over that piece of information. 

"Captain Cold," Barry's voice booms from the roof across the street. 

"Flash," Len says, and then he raises his gun in his direction. 

He can see the slight tilt of _what the fuck_ to Barry's head, but then Len is interrupting. 

"I think we should move in together," Len says, and then Mick is doing his job just in time, the fire truck below blasting a sudden stream of water directly between them. 

Len hits the trigger a half-second later, the water freezing into an arch shaped ice sculpture right over the graffiti lightning bolt that Lisa and her reporter girlfriend had spray painted in the middle of the night in anticipation of this wildly inappropriate act of vandalism. 

In all actuality, Barry practically lives him with anyway and what he really wants to do is get the kid to actually go through with the marriage proposal he knows is being planned, but he doesn't think one-upping him on that publicly will result in him getting laid anytime in the next two weeks. 

"I thought you were going to deny the rumors, Cold," Barry blurts out, and Len doesn't have to see his face to know its red. 

"Took some time to think about it, decided I wasn't interested in pretending you didn't melt my flash-frozen heart. Hope you don't mind." 

"Oh my god, you are not as funny as you think you are," Barry blurts, but it only takes him a blink of an eye before he's crossed the arch and wrapped his arms around Len's neck. 

"Yeah, that's not–" Len starts, but Barry's lips cut him off and the overly excitable crowd absolutely loses it. 

"Happy anniversary," Barry whispers into his mouth, his eyes shining just a little. 

And it is.


End file.
